


Side Effect Of Dying

by and_awful



Category: Fargo (2014), Fargo (TV), Fargo - Fandom, fx fargo
Genre: Afterlife AU, First Person Narration, M/M, POV Lester, Soz, this was gonna be like a 10k fic but then i got distracted and 7 months later im in new fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/and_awful/pseuds/and_awful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Begins right after Lester falls in the ice.</p><p>Based off of Bakurik's tumblr post:</p><p>"LORNESTER AFTERLIFE AU.<br/>Lester is like blue, always shaking because he drowned in the lake and he meets up with Lorne who is just smirking at him, bullet holes on display for all the dead to see. So he walks up to Lester, wrapping his arms around him and says "I told ya I'd see you again." And lester just looks up at him and just mutters "...d-don't let go... You're so wa-warm"<br/>LORNE WOULD BE SO WARM BECAUSE LESTER IS JUST A POPSICLE NOW."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The water is demanding as surrounds me. It demands to take the air from my lungs, the heat from my skin, and the very life out of my being. It demands it all, but it doesn’t get it all. I force my icicle arms up above my head and push my elbows down onto the surface of the ice to pull my head up.

Fresh oxygen burns my lungs as it circulates through my system. I cough on the sensation of it and water dribbles down my chin. I’m surprised by the amount coming out of my mouth. I was expecting a mouthful of ice water to be simultaneously burning and freezing my tongue. I’m glad it’s only a dribble. It allows taking many deep breaths that much more bearable. 

Deep in.

Deep out.

I finally gain the strength I need to pull myself the rest of the way out of the hole. My body furiously shakes as I lay on the thin layer of snow covering the deathly thin layer of ice. I don’t know why the act of thrashing about doesn’t cause me to break through all over again, but I don’t care. After a minute of praying for heat and getting nothing, I turn my head towards the police officers only to find them gone.

I laugh. I laugh so breathlessly and slide my eyes shut. The police want my body, but they can’t have it. The Earth is trying to swallow me whole, but it can’t do it. Lorne Malvo wants me dead, but it can’t be done. As far as I’m concerned, and as far as everyone else should be concerned, I’m unstoppable.

I slowly rise myself up into a standing position. I make sure to not introduce my full, concentrated body weight onto the ice suddenly, but right now, I don’t think it would matter. The ice isn’t reacting to any movement I make. Maybe it’s not as thin as it seems. Maybe it was only my stomping feet that caused it to crack. I test my theory by pushing the ball of my right foot down forcefully onto the ice. There is absolutely no give.

I laugh more lively and turn around. In an instant my laughter transforms into a shriek of fear. Standing before me is a very bloody, and very angry Lorne Malvo. There’s a raw, gaping hole just below his left temple. He seems oblivious to both it, and the trail of blood running down his face.

“You died the way you lived,” he tells me. “Frightened, and running away from your problems.” He advances on me, and with every step he takes forward, I take one back. “You’re still doing it,” he points out calmly. “You may think you’ve changed, Lester, but you’re still the pathetic man in the emergency room.”

“At least I didn’t get fooled by a pathetic man,” I retaliate, motioning to his leg. 

He laughs in response and motions to the hole I fell into.

I follow his gesture and look at my almost-grave for the first time. Floating on the water is my hat, but I tap my head and feel that I’m wearing it. I look up at Lorne in confusion, and he nods slightly, motioning again to the hole. He takes it upon himself to get closer, and I follow suit. Together we squat to investigate. Actually, he watches me as I investigate. I take my hand and hesitantly bring it to my head. The me in the water, I mean, however that’s possible. My hand goes right through and I jerk it away.

“We can’t touch people,” Lorne explains. “Even ourselves. I thought it was weird, too.”

I rise back up onto my feet and take swift steps away. That's me in the hole. That is most definitely me, frozen and untouchable in the hole, destined to appear on the evening news as nothing more than the foolish murder suspect who got himself killed. Better than jail, I suppose, but then what does that make Lorne?

"Are you my guardian angel?" I whisper lightly, though through the silence we’re surrounded by, my voice travels far.

"God," he groans and stands up. "No, Lester—"

"Yes," I interrupt with excitement. "You have to be. You came to me when I needed your help with Sam, then when I was getting over confident you came back to scare the heck out of me." I smile largely and walk up to him. "Now you're here to greet me in death, albeit you're a little more dishevelled than I thought an angel would be..."

"I'm not an angel," he says sternly. "And you have a pretty skewed perception of reality if you think that's what happened. I killed Sam because I wanted to, and I came back to end your life. You proved yourself to be a problem I needed to end, Lester. Nothing more.”

I look his face over for a long moment to read emotion that isn’t there. “Then why are you here now?” I ask.

His mouth opens and closes as if he’s about to start a sentence several times but can’t get the words out. Eventually he gives up and lets a heavy sigh out through his nose. “You’re the closest thing I have to a friend,” he says. “You killed all my other ones in the elevator.”

My mouth falls open and he laughs. It echoes across the small desert, then stops abruptly. “Come on,” he says, motioning the way I came. “You should get some dry clothes on.”

 

I keep distance between him and I in case he chooses to turn around suddenly and attack me. The further away I am from him, the higher the advantage I have. At least, that’s how it works in theory.

I don’t feel in control when I’m with him. I never have, and it seems I never will. He walks with such confidence it overwhelms me. I cautiously watch his form in front of me so intently I don’t notice his footprints until we make it to my driveway.

Everywhere he steps, and for that matter, everywhere I step, we leave behind a light blue glow. I stomp around in the snow and watch myself leave this strange trail until Lorne clears his throat and brings me back to reality.

“Where’s your keys?” he asks, holding his hand out.

“In the ignition,” I answer, walking up to the flowerbed next to the door. I reach under the bush and pull out the spare, which Lorne quickly snatches out of my hand.

As he swings my door open, a transparent blue copy stays shut. He walks through it like it isn’t even there, but I’m more hesitant. I touch it quickly with my hand like it will be electrified, but find it really isn’t there. I slip right through unharmed, and it isn’t even disturbed by my entrance. If I weren’t so cold and soaked, I might study it further.

I push past Lorne and rush to my bathroom, where I lock the door and shed my body of its frozen prison. For about ten minutes straight I stand under the warm water flowing out of the shower. Once I'm warm enough I get out, dry off, and put on new clothes, all the while ignoring the bizarre blue. 

Downstairs by my kitchen sink Lorne is holding a wet cloth to the gaping hole in his face. I'm glad he's finally acknowledging it. It was starting to creep me out. I was worried I was the only one who noticed it.

I walk up to the island with all intentions of asking about the blue, but my words are cut short in favour of screams. Seemingly out of nowhere I'm drenched in below freezing water again.  
I begin to furiously shake from the cold and stare at Lorne for an explanation. He looks just as shocked and then,

"Glad I'm not you," he says simply.


	2. Chapter 2

Lorne throws the cloth down onto my clean counter and walks past me like there's nothing wrong. He slips a little on the wet tiles but otherwise slinks away like his usual cold self. I let him go for only a moment before running into the foyer after him.

"Why is all of this happening?" I ask. "If I'm really dead, shouldn't I be in heaven?"

He laughs loudly and turns around to face me. "Lester," he starts, "you're a murderer. Heaven is the last place you'll be going."

"I'm not a murderer," I argue. "I'm a good man and I don't deserve this. I deserve to be with my wife and—"

"Which one?" he interrupts. "The one you beat to death or the one you shot?"

"No,” I snap, advancing on him. “Now you shot her. I wasn't even in the building."

Lorne shrugs with a grin. "That's not really important right now, is it? What's important is, you're right. You don't deserve this. Neither of us do. We're great men, Lester, and we could have continued to be extraordinary men, but one family stood in our way.” He raises a brow at me in an invitation to challenge him; an invitation to leave now; yes, or no?

“What do you mean?” I ask instead.

“Who always pulled you back into this mess when it seemed like you were free of it all?”

“You?” I guess.

“No. Think harder. One person who kept coming into your life. One person who hunted you down for the confession you’ve seemed to have repressed. The...”

“The lady cop,” I whisper.

 

Driving with Lorne is frightening enough to kill me all over again. He doesn’t follow the speed limit, and he drives right through all the other cars on the road. Thankfully he stays on the road, because I’m sure if we tried we would fuse right through buildings as well.

We drive to the police station I am all too familiar with. I watch him as he takes it all in. He doesn't miss a thing. He sees every car parked around us, every officer inside, even every bird flying past. He watches for ten minutes before getting out of the car and walking off without me.

I scramble after him and together we walk into the building. The electronic double doors at the entrance open for us, but doesn’t leave a blue copy behind like everything else. I almost don’t notice as my heart rate picks up and demands all of my focus.

Despite being dead, being here makes me uneasy. I know I won’t be thrown into jail —Chaz has taken care of that for me— the air just feels stale in my lungs. The deeper in we go the more it starts to affect my body. I begin to walk stiffly and almost collapse when Lorne helps himself to the drawers in Molly's desk.

"Look for a bill," he orders. "Make sure it's addressed to Molly Grimly."

"Her last name is Solverson," I correct. "It says it right here." I point to the small golden name tag sitting on her desk.

"She's married now." He scrunches a piece of paper into a ball and lobs it at my head. "Grimly."

I sigh and sit in her desk chair. "Death has made you childish," I accuse.

 

After a few drawers, Lorne finds a congratulatory card for her marriage, still tucked away in its envelope. He hands it to me and asks if I know where this address is. I can't particularly say I do, but that isn't a problem. At work I have some small maps of Minnesota which will take us right to Molly.

I grin and look at the small writing on the envelope like it holds everything I've ever dreamed of. Lorne reaches out to take it back from me just as another unexplainable body of ice water splashes over me. I let out a loud gasp, and Lorne lets out a loud Lester! 

The envelope disintegrates in my hands and water drips down Lorne’s face. He glares at me with such intensity I feel my cold sweat over the cold water.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. “I must have dried off.”

“Must you’ve?” he asks sarcastically. 

He clicks his tongue and walks away into another room. Ten minutes later he comes back dry and gripping a handgun. Any normal day I would be frightened, but now I don’t even know if a bullet would injure me. Can you die twice?

He walks up to Molly’s desk and grabs her small family portrait, then places it on a desk on the other side of the room. I watch him with curiosity, then his intentions become clear when he hands me the gun and points to the picture. 

I need some gun practise, though what use will that do? The bullet will probably go right through the living.

Nonetheless I take the revolver, close my eyes, and shoot it once. I hear glass shatter and it sounds like music to my ears. The perfect shot. A large smile of pride refuses to leave my face until I actually look at the picture.

It’s still sitting in tact on the desk, but the large window behind it has a small bullet hole in it. If the portrait was a person, I think I would have gotten close enough to scare them a little. I count that as success.

"Did you have your eyes shut?" Lorne asks.

I place the gun on the desk and swivel in the chair to look him in the eye. “This isn’t going to work. If we can drive a car through other cars, a bullet can go through a girl.”

“You know,” he says, picking up the gun, “I liked you better when you were scared of me.”

He shoots the portrait without looking then places the barrel of the gun to my temple and pulls the trigger.

 

I wake on the floor in a puddle of my own water-diluted blood some hours later. My heartbeat is heavy in my head, but I’m otherwise fine. There’s no bullet hole, like there is on Lorne. 

I slowly sit up and realise I’ve been out longer than I thought. Around me, police officers are slowly trickling in to start their morning shift. Lorne is sitting in Molly’s chair, head flopped backwards, snoring lightly: fast asleep. His gunshot wound has had the chance to bleed down his face now that he’s not awake to clean himself up.

Carefully I stand up in my puddle and scan the office for Molly. She isn’t hard to miss. As she walks to her desk she’s interrupted by Bill. For a moment I debate whether or not it’s amoral for me to walk up and listen to their conversation, but that worry is short lived. What’s one more sin to a dead man?

I needlessly walk around people to get to Bill and Molly. Bill looks like he’s had the hardest night of his life, and in stark contrast is Molly, all glowing smiles and a strong, proud posture.

“I can’t believe it,” Bill says. “Gee, you think you know a guy.”

Molly puts a hand on his back in faux sympathy.

“But what about the Brother Nygaard? He had the murder weapon—”

“We have a recording of Lester confessing,” Molly lies. “He framed his brother.”

“I never confessed anything,” I snap. I look at Bill for reassurance out of habit. He seems in favour of Molly.

“He and Malvo then…” Bill murmurs. 

“They worked together, and they were obviously very close.”

Bill slowly nods then his eyes brighten in realisation. “Lester was telling the truth!” he exclaims. “That explains why everything was so put together.”

“No, Bill—”

“Hear me out, Mol.” He excitedly rushes over to Molly’s desk and pulls out some paper. Furiously he begins writing something down as I walk over and nudge Lorne. 

Lorne snorts as he wakes and it takes him a moment to become orientated. I ignore his yawning in favour for Bill’s scribbling. He writes down everything important I’ve told him.

\+ Cheating wife  
\+ Lying to protect brother  
\+ Brother angry at wife

“The brother is this Malvo character.” He hands the paper to Molly. “Listen, I know Lester, and he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. The only way he could have been convinced to kill Pearl, is if he had a stronger connection with the convincer than he did his wife.” He beams and taps the paper in Molly’s hands. “Who would he be more attached to than his girl from high school?”

“Friend from elementary school?” she guesses.

“Friend from— No, Molly. He’s the cheater! He tweaked some small facts so it sounded like the wife was cheating. You know, to hide his secret. I always knew there was something a little funny about him.”

Molly looks at him like she’s sincerely concerned for his well-being. “Enjoy your retirement,” she says as she sits on top of Lorne. 

Lorne immediately jumps up out of the seat and grabs her purse. He digs through it until he finds her driver’s license. I watch Bill walk away to his office.

"Can you believe what he just said about me?" I ask Lorne.

"Yes," he answers under his breath. He hands me Molly's driver's license and the keys to the car he stole. "Turn the heater all the way up. I'll be back."

**Author's Note:**

> Will this fic be continued? Absolutely.  
> Will it be updated frequently? Not for a little while.  
> I'm currently working on publishing, so obviously that's going to take priority over this. Only when I'm stuck, or frustrated with that will I work on this. Sorry.


End file.
